


Three Days

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: I don't even know what to say about this, M/M, i don't write smut enough to know how to tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: All the note said, in that nearly indecipherable doctors handwriting, was “Metropolis” and then “Three days, est.” just below it. Edward frowned as he put the note aside. Three days. That was nothing. He could do three days on his own, easy.





	Three Days

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated ♥

Edward wasn’t, admittedly, paying much attention to what Jonathan was saying. He was engrossed in his project, in drawing the blueprints for his latest deathtrap, and didn’t have time for whatever Jon was going on about. The former psychiatrist had to leave for a few days. Likely something to do with the toxin, as everything seemed to be about the toxin when it came to Jon, but Edward wasn’t sure exactly what. Because he wasn’t paying attention. Jonathan seemed to think he’d have a hard time on his own. Ha! Edward was alone long before Jonathan, and would likely be alone again once Jonathan-

He didn’t like to think about that. He focused more heavily on the blueprints, forcing tunnel-vision until Jonathan was gone. It was hours until Edward resurfaced from the daze of his work, and when he finally looked up and shook off the noise of thoughts that buzzed around in his head as he worked, he realized how silent the apartment was. Jonathan wasn’t a loud or talkative person. He was basically a ghost, and could be right next to someone without them noticing unless he wanted them to notice. But still, his presence carried a volume for Edward. It filled silence. Filled space. He was there, and that counted for something. That counted for most of it.

But he wasn’t there at the moment. He was gone. Where had he gone? He didn’t go out much…

Edward felt uneasy. He knew, in the back of his mind, that Jonathan had told him where he’d be and exactly how long he expected to be away, but he still couldn’t quite remember. He headed into the kitchen to make some coffee to carry him through the night and found a note stuck to the coffee pot. Jonathan knew him well, it seemed. All the note said, in that nearly indecipherable doctors handwriting, was “Metropolis” and then “Three days, est.” just below it. Edward frowned as he put the note aside. Three days. That was nothing. He could do three days on his own, easy.

 

\-----

He didn’t sleep that night. He’d avoided going to bed so he could avoid realizing how difficult it would be to sleep alone. He drank mug after mug of coffee and spent most of the night hunched over his plans. It was at four in the morning that his phone buzzed, and he almost didn’t check it.

[Received 4:16]  
Go to sleep, if you haven’t yet.

It was Jonathan, of course. Straight to the point. He knew Edward far too well, and Ed hated it. So, pouting dramatically despite being alone, he replied.

[Sent 4:16]  
Thanks for waking me up, asshole.

He waited rather smugly for a reply, staring at his phone. Waiting. The response only pissed him off.

[Received 4:17]  
Lies are unbecoming.

Edward scowled at the phone. What did Jon know? Nothing, that’s what. Jonathan knew nothing about him! Edward could absolutely have been asleep! He wasn’t, but Jon didn’t know that, even if he thought he did. Still muttering angrily at his phone, Edward struggled to come up with a reply as he headed for the bedroom. He ruminated over a potential comeback during his nighttime routine, and fell asleep thinking over what to send.

\----

Edward liked to sleep in. It was easy to try to run on little to no sleep, and easier still to give in to the momentum of his work and try to overdo it. But a functional mind needed rest, and Edward prided himself on his mind. He would give it nothing less than the utmost care it deserved. After about two hours, however, he was awake again and making another pot of coffee.

He’d been… uneasy. He was so used to Jonathan encasing him as he slept. He was used to that illusion of protection, and now he just felt like someone was going to sneak into his room and kill him in his sleep. He felt vulnerable, physically, and that realization left him vulnerable, emotionally. The coffee finished brewing, and Edward didn’t move. He stood there, arms braced against the counter, glaring at the coffee pot. By the time he finally budged, the coffee had long since cooled.

\---

It was around noon that Edward realized he was sulking. Jonathan wasn’t even there to see how miserable he was, so why bother with the dramatics? It was automatic, he supposed. There was nothing wrong with Jon needing to head out for work for a few days. Just because it hadn’t happened before didn’t mean it was never going to happen. They were both adults who were very invested in their work, and sometimes that work led them all over the place. He’d been the one to refuse the invitation to join him. He’d needed to stay home and work on his own plans.

He should’ve just gone with him.

And done what? Sat in an empty hotel room while Jonathan went out and did whatever it was he needed to do? What a waste of time. He had stayed home to get work done, and so he tried to get to work. There was nothing wrong with Jonathan being away for a while, and Edward was going to be an adult about it. The lack of sleep resulted in him doing little more than staring at the blueprints with dry, stinging eyes, but he did manage to send off a text around supper time.

[Sent 6:42]  
Eat something, if you haven’t already.

[Received 6:45]  
Does coffee count?

[Sent 6:45]  
No, Jonathan. Coffee does not count.

[Received 6:50]  
Have you eaten?

[Sent 6:50]  
Not yet.

[Received 6:53]  
I’ll eat if you eat.

[Sent 6:53]  
Deal.

And that was the highlight of his day.

\----

He woke up the next morning with a horrible ache in his back, neck, and shoulders. He straightened from where he was hunched, hearing the joints crack as he did so. He’d fallen asleep at his desk. Horrible. He blinked tiredly, trying to clear his bleary eyes, and felt around for his glasses. Sliding them on, he realized his hands were covered in green paint.

Oh dear.

The walls were covered. Numerical patterns, question marks, riddles he knew by heart, and a few patches where he’d just painted up and down over and over again, watching the bristles, listening to them and feeling them move. He didn’t remember doing that. How much sleep had he actually gotten last night? He didn’t have the energy to wash the walls just then, and so he dragged himself out of his office and into the shower.

That helped. Being clean always helped him clear his mind and feel a little better. He even felt like he could sleep properly, almost, and got into bed. He could still smell Jonathan on the pillows. Of course he could, it had only been… How long? Was it only the second day? It felt so much longer.

He felt pathetic, and that made him feel angry. It made him resentful. So, out of spite, he turned away from Jonathan’s side of the bed and screwed his eyes shut, determined to sleep well without his partner. He had been alone before Jonathan and he’d been fine. He should still be fine.

Why wasn’t he fine?

\---

He hadn’t been fine, he realized on the third day. Being alone had been miserable. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He thought about his blueprints, but he felt far too drowsy to do anything with them. He’d hit a mental block. He hated those. His mental faculties were all he was. If that was blocked, then he had nothing.

And so he stayed laid up in bed, cocooned in the soft sheets and drifting in and out of sleep. He got up occasionally to eat, or clean, or try to do something productive. But inevitably he’d end up back in bed, curled up on Jonathan’s side, with his face buried in the pillow. He tried to dissect why all of it was so hard. Jonathan being gone shouldn’t have been a big deal, simply because he was coming back. Three days wasn’t a long time. Why was it affecting him so horribly? Why did he feel so bad?

It took an embarrassingly long time for Edward to realize he missed his boyfriend.

\----

It was late when Jonathan finally got back. Around five in the morning, and though he knew Edward was likely awake, he was still quiet as he entered the house. It was dark. That was unexpected. Maybe Edward really had gone to bed?

He had dropped his things off in his lab a few blocks over, and so all he had to do was throw in his clothes with the laundry before dragging himself to bed. There was an anxious pressure in his chest that unfurled itself when he saw Edward again. It was hard to see him under all the blankets, but he was there, and that was all Jon needed to know. Strangely, however, he was on Jonathan’s side of the bed. Jon didn’t care much about those sorts of things, but Edward could be particular about it, and Jonathan wasn’t very keen on getting glared at right after returning. Still, he didn’t have much choice but to take Edward’s side.

As soon as he laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder, the other man turned and rolled right into him, burying his face in his neck and clutching the shirt Jon had worn to bed. It took a moment to realize: Edward was wearing one of his shirts. Flannel, much too big for the shorter man. Suddenly, Jon felt a lot less silly. He’d thought he was being ridiculous, missing Edward as much as he had while he was gone. But it seemed he wasn’t alone in that feeling.

There was a warm feeling radiating in his chest, where previously there had been a painful tension. He buried his face in Edward’s hair and closed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in three days. His own body ran so coldly, and Edward was so warm. Jon had forgotten how obtrusive the chill was when he slept on his own.

But he was home, and he was tired, and he was absolutely happy to just let himself fall asleep.

Edward, however, didn’t seem as content with that ending to the night.

Jon felt Edward shift, pressing his lips against his neck gently. At first it seemed like a simple act of affection. Then Edward continued, kissing up Jonathan’s neck and pressing his lips against his pulse, moving along his jawline. Warm hands slid beneath Jonathan’s shirt and and very firmly pressed him onto his back, where he found himself pinned as Edward straddled him.

Edward wasn’t as scrawny as Jonathan, but he was shorter. The only clothes Jonathan could find that fit him were too large, and the plaid shirt hung off of Edward, making him look smaller than he really was. He was a sight to behold, Jon thought. Looking down at him with hunger in his eyes and the sharp line of his collarbone showing where Jon’s shirt was unbuttoned. His hair was tousled from bed, a nice change from how perfectly coiffed he usually kept it. Jon wanted to run his hands through it. He wanted to hear the sharp gasp Edward always made when Jon pulled his hair.

Sleep could wait. Jon tugged Edward down and kissed him hard, feeling more than a little smug at the desperate sounds Ed made against his lips. It was like Edward wanted to devour him. He was needy, hands tangled in Jon’s hair as if Jonathan had any desire to pull away. Edward rolled his hips and Jonathan felt all rational thought leave him for a moment. He’d never get used to that. He’d never get used to someone wanting him the way Edward did.

God, he’d missed this man.

Edward was the one to pull away, kissing his way back down Jonathan’s neck. His hands slid down Jon’s body, pulling down his underwear as Edward’s teeth grazed the skin of his hips.

“I missed you.” He hadn’t expected Edward to speak. He especially didn’t expect Edward to say something like that. He opened his eyes, not remembering when he’d closed them, and looked down to where Edward was looking up at him through thick eyelashes. There was something warm in his gaze, and it made Jon’s chest clench. “You had no right to do that.”

“To do what?” He managed, voice strained as one of Edward’s hands stroked him lightly, teasing. Edward knew Jon hated that.

“To make me miss you.” Edward said simply, as if it were obvious. “It was a horrible feeling.” He clearly didn’t care to hear whatever Jon had to say to that, because he chose to take Jonathan into his mouth immediately afterwards, rendering them both speechless. Edward’s hair was soft when Jon gripped it in his hands, and when he tugged slightly he felt Edward moan more clearly than he heard him. Long and low, taking Jon in fully and swallowing around him deliberately. He clearly delighted in the little hiss he prompted from his usually-silent lover, and pulled off just to grin up at him impishly.

“Would you like me to continue?” He asked, deceptively sweet. Jon narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious.

“You know I would.”

“Are you sure?” Edward moved back up his body, kissed him deeply and running his hands gently through Jon’s hair. When he pulled back, he looked down at Jon almost lovingly, holding his face in his hands as if he were something precious. He was smiling gently, oh so sweetly, and then he spoke again. “Or would you rather hold me down and fuck me until I can’t think of anything but you?”

Jon’s breath hitched and Edward kissed him again, pressing close so Jon could feel his arousal against his hip. He pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to Jon’s cheek, and then whispered into his ear.

“Tell me, Dr. Crane. Would you like to make me scream? Would you like me to call out your name so desperately that I run my voice raw and useless? Would you like to bring me right to the edge, and refuse to let me finish until I somehow manage to choke out that I’m completely and devotedly-”

He didn’t get to finish before Edward found their positions reversed and found his mouth being otherwise occupied. It wasn’t hard to get Jonathan riled up when you knew how, and no one knew better than Edward. Ed reached up to hold onto him, but Jonathan promptly pinned his hands down, holding his wrists in a viselike grip. He felt Edward moan when he did that, and felt his hips jerk desperately when Jon kissed down his neck and bit into the curve of his neck. He could feel the way Edward’s breath picked up, the way he was straining to get impossibly closer to his partner. Jon moved back suddenly, meeting Edward’s wide eyes with a downright predatory expression. He watched, entranced, as Edward swallowed thickly and licked his lips.

“ _-Yours._ ” He finally finished, breathless and dazed. Jon let go of Edward’s wrists, but Ed knew better than to try to use his newfound freedom. The taller man said nothing as he reached over to the nightstand, finding the bottle of lubricant and wasting no time coating his fingers. He moved the plaid shirt up so it bunched around Edward’s hips. He was naked aside from the shirt, because of _course_ he was, because he knew _exactly_ how to drive Jonathan insane.

Jonathan was good with his hands. He had to work with delicate chemicals, with delicate machinery to distil and manipulate those chemicals. His fingers were long and thin, and he’d heard them described as spidery by himself and other unkind individuals. Edward, however, seemed to be a fan. He could make Edward call out if he crooked his fingers just right. He could make him squirm if he just barely avoided doing that, teasing Edward with the idea it might happen but never actually applying proper pressure where Edward wanted it. It didn’t take much to turn the proud, stuck-up genius into a whining, writhing mess. Not for Jonathan, anyway.

Taking in the flushed man breathing hard beneath him, Jon hooked Edward’s legs over his shoulder and applied additional lubrication to himself before pressing inside of him. But just barely. Enough to have Edward pleading for more. A litany of ‘please’ and ‘Jonathan’ but not exactly what Jon wanted to hear.

“Say it again, Edward.” He cut through Edward’s whining, unswayed by previous pleas.

“Say-?”

“Who do you belong to, Nygma.” It was more demand than question, and Jon could feel Edward shiver beneath him. That commanding tone of voice always seemed to get to him.

“Yours.” He breathed out the word, and Jonathan pressed inside of him slowly as he continued. “I- I’m yours. Even when you were gone- Fuck- I missed you so much, Jonathan- I hated it- I hated not having you here-” He was cut off when Jon bottomed out, using his ridiculously long torso to lean down and kiss him gently.

“I missed you too, Edward.” He admitted softly.

Then he straightened up,and got to work making an absolute mess of his boyfriend.

The pace he set was punishing. Harder than his seemingly-frail frame would imply he was capable of, and he didn’t miss it when Edward’s hands gripped onto the headboard to anchor himself. Jonathan never took his eyes off of Edward’s face. The dark flush across his cheeks was clear even in the dark, his eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open. When he did open his eyes, they were glazed over and far away. His knuckles were white against the headboard. In an act of mercy, Jonathan moved a hand to Edward’s wrist and tapped a long finger against it twice. It was a signal they used often, and as soon as it was given Edward was clutching onto Jonathan desperately. He tugged Jonathan down almost violently, pressing him impossibly closer, and kissed him hard and inelegantly.

Jonathan reached down, and it only took a few strokes before Edward was crying out and cuming into his hand. The way Edward was gasping his name played perfectly to Jonathan’s ego, and he wasn’t at all far behind.

Gently, carefully, he lowered Edward’s legs off of his shoulders and eased out of him. Edward groaned as he did so, but it quickly turned into a whine when Jonathan got up.

“I’ll be right back.” He assured, mildly amused with how ridiculously needy a supervillain could be. Edward looked absolutely devastated that Jon would be out of bed for even a moment, but Jonathan knew full well that if he didn’t clean them off now, he’d pay for it later. Few things seemed to piss Edward off more than the sensation of being sticky.

A damp washcloth and a multitude of tired kisses later, they were both back in bed. Edward was draped over Jonathan completely, and it would take a miracle to pry him off any time soon. Thankfully, he was exactly where Jonathan wanted him. Pressed close and wrapped in his arms.


End file.
